Daryl Is Love, Daryl Is Life: Parts 1, 2, 3
by ShelaRoxx
Summary: Remember that Reddit post fanfiction that turned into this wildly popular and strangely odd internet phenomenon, Shrek is Love Shrek is Life? Yeah, well, I put my own spin on it just for fun but with a more handsome "lothario" to follow the erotically stupid tales of (sorry Shrek.) This is part one of my own story/parody involving Daryl Dixon, which I do not own sadly. :/ Enjoy!
1. Daryl Is Love, Daryl Is Life: Part 1

I was 21 years old.

I was a fan of AMC's The Walking Dead.

I was in love with Daryl Dixon, the crossbow toting redneck that rode a motorcycle. He was badass and beautiful, he gave me something to believe in in my sad, lonely existance and everytime my life got rough, I'd whisper...

"Daryl is love, Daryl is life" for reassurance and peace.

My dad has a mancrush on Daryl Dixon.

My dad though thinks I should get a life, therefore, he has cut off the internet to prevent me from seeing Daryl on image searches and forbidden me from watching The Walking Dead on season premiere night.

Tonight is premiere night.

I am alone in my room, deeply saddened. It is an hour before The Walking Dead begins.

I close my eyes and whisper softly, "Daryl is love, Daryl is life.."

An arrow shoots through my open window then and pieces through my closet it door. Could it be?

And following that, to my surprise in climbs Daryl Dixon through my window in all his beautiful, grungy glory. I am so happy.

He pulls his arrow out of the wood frame of my closet and says, "My bad" in his quiet, southern voice.

I take off my shirt and pants in offering myself to my master.

"What are you doin'?" He asks me and wraps a bedsheet around me for clarity. I am confused by this. "I'm just here to help you..."

My dad hears all this and barges in.

"What in the hell are you doing with my daughter, buddy?!"

Daryl has none of this and shoots him with his crossbow. I hug my gorgegous hero then so hard he can't breathe.

"Your mom at werk?" Daryl asks me when I let him go and continue to take the rest of my clothes off in honor of his presence.

"Yes. So you must take me now she can achieve her one life wish..." I reply.

"An' that is?"

"To have a grandchild."

Daryl then agrees to make wild, passionate love to me and I spread myself out on the bed for my love and anxiously await to take his seed. Daryl unzips himself and slides his long, achey love muscle as equally gritty as the rest of him inside me and it feels as good as I had dreamed, better even. He timidly takes his time and dominates me, makes me his little sex toy, but insists on pleasing me. I get off over and over for him, for his beautiful face, his sweaty, stringy hair, his beady blue eyes. I come so much he finally burns stamina and has to come himself, but I understand though. And in a big, loud orgasm, Daryl gives me his sticky seed.

My mother pulls in the driveway, home from work, in time for The Walking Dead. I put on a robe as Daryl grabs his crossbow and nods to me.

"Take care of our little asskicker," he says and jumps out my window, disappearing in the night.

Daryl is love, Daryl is life.


	2. Daryl Is Love, Daryl Is Life: Part 2

Nine months has passed and I am 22 now.

I am recovering from giving birth to a baby boy in the local hospital and the time has come to name my son.

"What'll it be?" A nurse in Spongebob Squarepants scrubs asks.

"Daryl Dixon jr.," I respond. She laughs at me. The doctor laughs at me too. They think I'm crazy. They don't believe me...no one does.

"Daryl Dixon is a fictional character," They scorn. "He's on that show...what is it?"

"He's on AMC's The Walking Dead but he-he's real. He made love to me and made this baby! I'm telling the truth!" I yell at these fools. They horselaugh at my expense. In anger I whisper, "Daryl is love, Daryl...is life." Then suddenly, an arrow impales through the nurse's head and into the doctor's. They both fall to the floor in the death of disbelievers.

"I believe you," a scratchy, southern voice states in a shadow on the other side of the curtain. My heart flutters. Prince Charming donning medical scrubs instead of his usual ragged, dirty clothing, comes to my bedside and takes our baby out of my arms and into his.

He smiles. He is as pleased with our son as I am.

Daryl passes D.J. back to me and grabs the birth certificate out of the nurse's death grip. He dips his long, skinny finger into the pool of blood and sloppily prints his name on the line that reads 'Father's name,' then signs a sloppy signature on the signature line. He hands this to me with a wink.

"Everyone I've told about you says you're just Norman Reedus pretending to be Daryl Dixon...but I always call them jealous fucks and tell them to eff' off."

Daryl retrives his arrow from the doctor's skull. "Atta girl.." I drop my eyes onto Daryl jr.

"I know you're real Daryl, I know you're not Norman Reedus...you'd...you'd tell me if you were Norman, right?"

When I look up again, Daryl is smirking at me with those beady little eyes and standing at the hospital window. I raise a brow in confusion to this. "Take care of our little asskicker," is all he coldly replies with and he sticks his shaggy, dark head out the window and observes how high up we are in the building. He pokes his head back in and blushes. "Better take the elevator."

"Daryl, wait..."

He is gone in a flash.

But most importantly, I am a mother now, the mother of Daryl Dixon jr. I have never been happier in my entire life.

My mom dashes in the room, her eyes wide. "Did you see that guy?! He looked exactly like Norman Reedus!" She exclaims.

I turn to her slowly, my son burbling and squirming in my arms. "No mom, he looked exactly like Daryl Dixon, that's who he looked like."

Daryl is love, Daryl is life.


	3. Daryl Is Love Daryl Is Life: Part 3

Be me, be 24 years old now.

Being literally drug into the state institution by big, brawny security guards or in other words, ex mall cops. My counselor claims she fears for the health of others and myself, because for the past twenty visits instead of talking about my feelings and problems, I've gave her a complete, detailed recap of AMC's The Walking Dead in its entirety.

She has listed me as 'schizophernic' and 'possibly suicidal or homicidal,' I am told by some tall man in a white labcoat.

"I'm not crazy, sir! I'm not homicidal, I'm not sucidal or anything like that! I just love The Walking Dead! I don't see what's so wrong with that!" I scream at the man, myself near tears at just the mention of The Walking Dead; only two Sundays left until the season finale.

"Your obsession is unhealthy."

"You don't understand, Daryl is love. Daryl is life..."

The labcoat guy shakes his head and growls. "Take her away, solitary confinement." I scream obscenities at him, at the guards too as they grab me again, ready to carry me away when I am spared. I witness an arrow as its shot through the labcoats' head and the next one for one guard and one for the other. The surrounding paitents and staff scurry off to hiding. I turn slowly, arms confined by the straitjacket they wrapped me in, and before me stands Daryl Dixon all over again. I am so relieved.

"Let's git you outta here," Daryl quietly renounces, "But first..." He takes his knife out, a Bowie I assume, and cuts me free of my straitjacket. I hug him tightly like the night we met.

"Daryl, you never answered my..."

"Let's git you home."

Daryl and I break free from the institution and he sets me behind him on the back of his motorcycle for the ride home. I do not ask how he knows where I live, how he knew to begin with, I just wrap my arms around his waist on the ride and brush my fingers at the hem of his zipper from time to time until he's hard and then, without asking, I unzip his long, throbby dick and stroke the length with heavy, slick polishes. I can't see his face for his thick, grimy hair slapping me in the face in the wind, but that's okay. I am pleasing my hero I am sure.

When we make it to the curb, Daryl comes in my hand, filling my palm and between my fingers with his love. I draw my hand back and hop off the bike at rest, Daryl zipping himself back up quickly as my mother and D.J. step out on the porch, waving feverishly at Daryl. Wiping my sticky hands off on my jeans, I walk around to Daryl's side. He glances around me to my mom and D.J. and smiles.

"He's growin' up," Daryl laughs a little to himself. I disregard this.

"Daryl, will you please tell me something now? Now that you're here again? Are you Daryl Dixon for real...I mean, you are...right? You're not...just...Norman Reedus...but if you are, then why'd you do all this for me? How did you..."

"You believed in me, you put yer lost faith into my existence, kid. It doesn't matter who I am because you - and Robert Kirkman, gave me life. I just heard de callin' an' answered it, you did the rest."

My mouth I'm sure agape as I take in every thing he's just said, as deep as that was, all I can find myself easy to mutter is, "But that still doesn't answer my question..."

Daryl or Norman, whoever he is, rolls his beady eyes at me and kickstarts the motorcycle again. "Take care of our little asskicker."

"How in the hell will I ever know the truth?!" I nearly yell at him, but take it an iota down upon realizing the volume. He smirks.

"Maybe yer not supposed to know.."

"What?"

He nods to me and gives the bike gas, cutting out off into the street and into the sunset, eventually disappearing from sight.

That was the last time I ever saw him, even when I'd close my eyes and mumur, "Daryl is love, Daryl is life," he would never show up anymore. I guess he thought I was taken care of, I don't know; But other than on my tv screen every new season, I never saw him ever again.

I went on to raise my son and take care of us and my mother by working a part-time job waiting tables while attending college as well at the Arts Institute. After graduating, I was able to quit my part-time job and was hired full-time to draw floor plans for homes and businesses in the surrounding area. In spare time, I paint and doodle zombies for fun while taking care of my Daryl jr. My life has changed so much and for the best...all thanks to Daryl Dixon.

Thank you Daryl, thank you for everything, wherever you are.

Daryl is love, Daryl is life.


End file.
